Chapter Four
LaMeka
I don’t know why I was sitting there. I guess a part of me really couldn’t believe that this fool actually recovered from being shot, but mostly, I guess I was there because I felt so sorry for him. After two emergency surgeries and three close encounters with death’s door, Tony actually lived. After a full week in ICU, he was finally stable, but he was in a coma. I had contacted his parents, and despite the heartache and pain Tony had taken them through, they’d been up here day and night to look after and monitor him. Being a mother, I could relate. Nobody wanted to see their child knocking on Heaven’s door, no matter what mistakes they’d made.
As suspected, Tony had been shot for trying to play stick-up kid to get rocks. No one confessed who the shooter was, but I already knew that was a no go. Nobody in the hood snitched, especially when a nigga didn’t mind making an example of you, and Tony was exactly that, an example.
I didn’t want Tony to die, but a small part of me was happy to see him suffer. I wanted him to suffer, just like I had suffered all those years I was with him. Yet, a part of me—the kinder and holier part—was hopeful for a full recovery. I wanted to see Tony get better and make a change for himself. He’d had his dreams snatched away at a young age, nearly lost his life while he was lost in a world of drugs, and now, he had to deal with being HIV positive. Yep, it was official. He had the “package,” and I could bet a dime to a dollar he didn’t even know it. The truly sad part about all this was that there was no telling how many women or men—hey, being on that shit does strange things to people, so you never know—he’d lain down with since he contracted this virus. These diseases were out there, man, so you had to be careful.
“I thought I’d find you in here,” Gavin said as he entered the room, startling me.
I wiped my tears. “Gavin. You scared me.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I was just checking on you,” he apologized. He sat down next to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “No change, huh?”
I shook my head. “Nope. He’s still unconscious.”
He rubbed my back and smiled at me. “He’ll pull through. With you by his side, how could he not?”
I pushed him and giggled. “Your game is so weak.”
“Girl, please. My game is tight. That wasn’t real game anyway. That was just me comforting a friend.”
“Thanks.” I smiled at him.
He smiled back. “No problem.”
Thinking about the possible gossip floating around, I released a dreadful sigh. “So, how bad is the rumor mill about the new student who knows the guy who is HIV positive?”
Gavin waved off my question. “Don’t worry about that.”
“So, it’s that bad, huh?” I rolled my eyes, thinking about the water cooler gossipers.
“LaMeka—”
“Just be straight up with me,” I interrupted.
He rubbed his face and released the same dreadful sigh. “On the real, it bothers some people. You know they got mad questions about how you really know his HIV status, and if I keep it one hundred with you, shawty, they want to know your status.”
“I can’t believe, with as much shit as we have to deal with, that these so-called medical professionals would worry about bullshit like that. This is what we do every day.”
He nodded. “True. True. I feel you in a way, but they’re human. That shit is scary, LaMeka. We deal with a lot of shit every day, but it doesn’t mean we’re immune to being scared of dealing with it.”
“It’s a manageable disease. Nobody is running to the other side of the building if a person finds out they have cancer or even herpes, which are incurable diseases as well.”
“Come on now, LaMeka. I get your point, but those are totally different from the “package.” For one, cancer, while incurable, is not contagious. Everybody in here can have cancer, but your body has to materialize cancer cells on its own for you to have it. Second of all, herpes may be incurable, but it’s not life threatening. I mean, people on constant medication live perfectly normal—sexual activity inclusive—lives. Yet, I beg to differ on the running part. I don’t know too many people voluntarily laying down with a person who has herpes.”
“Right, and who wants something they can’t cure regardless of what it is?” I argued. “Besides, with the new advancements in HIV treatment and with awareness, it’s hardly the death sentence it used to be.”
“True,” he agreed, “but I guess the disease still has so many unknown factors that it’s hard for people to be comfortable with it.”
“So, I guess you’re one of the ones who want to know the deal? Is that why you’re defending their ignorant asses?” I asked with an attitude.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he frowned. “Calm down, shawty, damn,” he responded with a slight attitude of his own. “You asked me. I was only being straight up like you asked me to be. I haven’t asked you a thing about your personal status or business. I figure if you want to tell me, you will.”
Suddenly filled with remorse, I placed my head in my hands. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you, but I’m just so frustrated with people looking at me as if I have a third eye in my forehead.”
“Forget those people and what they think. It ain’t nobody’s business but yours. You don’t owe nobody nothing, so it is what it is. Personally, I admire you. It takes a strong person to deal with someone who is HIV positive, and you handle yourself with grace and class. On the humble, I really respect you.”
His words etched a blush on my face. “Now, that game was very tight.”
He playfully pushed me. “Get the fuck outta here.” He laughed. “Again, that wasn’t my game, but I’ll take that compliment.”
Becoming aware of the time, I glanced at my watch. “Shit, my break was over ten minutes ago.”
“Yeah, that’s why I was looking for you.”
“Well, aren’t you going to chastise me for being late?”
He stood up and looked down at me with lust-filled eyes. “Do I get to spank you?” he asked seductively.
Giggles escaped me, and my cheeks instantly deepened in redness from blushing. “Oh my God.”
He pointed at me. “Now, that was my game.”
Standing up, I gazed into his smoldering brown eyes. “It sure as hell was.” I winked at him and turned to leave.
He followed me out the door. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said once we were in the hallway.
Turning, I looked up at him. “I know. Maybe one day I’ll answer it for you.”
He laughed. “Maybe I’ll get the answer I’m looking for.”
“Maybe, Mr. Randall. Maybe,” I said as we went to finish up our rounds.